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It's been a while...

but the truth is I don't have much in me anymore.  Real truth is I wish I weren't here. God's honest truth is if I thought it would really solve anything I'd of probably offed myself by now.  Harsh words you think, not really.  This grieving, this loss, this pain grows more intense with each day.  Each day without my precious son, each day in this world without his smile, his laugh, his beauty, is one more day of agony.  I long to be shed of it, to be free to rest, to feel and not hurt, to laugh and not cry, to smile and not ache. 

Some have told me the second year of this loss was the worst.  In the midst of the first year such thought was inconceivable.  Now, as I approach this second year without my son, I get it. I see it. I feel it.  The blinders of shock have been removed and the significance of it all is revealed; all we lost, all he lost, all that could have been and will never be. It's overwhelming, suffocating, impossible to comprehend, unacceptable and excruciatingly painful.

This agony doesn't stop.  It never ever stops.  It swells and spreads. It consumes you.  The pain overshadows all other things of your existence, it becomes you, it is you, it defines you. My name is Pain.

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